The Contraband Courtship (The Arlingbys Book 2) (11 page)

Helena watched him nearly run to the manor, shaking her head slightly, but smiling nonetheless. She
paused a moment to give the yew tunnel a look of regret, and eventually found herself mounting the steps of Keighley Manor. As she did so, she heard the sound of an approaching horse, and looked up eagerly. She was not sure whom she expected to see, but her face hardened in anger when she perceived Lord Denby approaching. He reined in a short distance from her, and she turned her back on him, moving toward the entrance.

“Miss Keighly, if I might have a word with you,” said Denby.

Helena stopped, her back still to him. A footman had come out of the house and looked at her inquiringly.

“You are not welcome here, Lord Denby,” she said clearly.

“I am aware of that. I only want a word with you. I need not come in the house, if you do not wish it.”

Helena turned around and surveyed him. “What do you want to tell me?”

Lord Denby glanced at the servant. “If your man would hold my horse for a few moments, we can discuss this privately. Unless you wish everyone to know your business?”

Helena paused for a moment, then nodded at the footman, who ran to take the reins of Denby’s horse. The baron slid from the saddle and walked up to her. As he did so, she took a hasty step back. He gave an ugly laugh.

“I mean you no harm, Miss Keighley.”

“You couldn’t hurt me if you wished to,” she said firmly. “We are not in London, but on my own land.”

“Your brother’s land,” observed Denby. “Not yours.”

Helena sighed. “Did you come here merely to insult me again, Lord Denby? I do not find this discussion amusing.”

“Of course not. I only point out the obvious.”

“Thank you for your concern,” said Helena icily.

Denby glanced at the footman, who stood at some distance. “I would prefer to be alone with you.”

“I’m sure you would.”

Denby sighed. “You have always been far too strong minded,” he observed. “Miss Keighley, I came to warn you to beware of Lord Wroxton.”

Helena stared at him in surprise. “To beware of Lord Wroxton?” she repeated. “You overstep the bounds of propriety, Lord Denby.”

He glanced down. “I realize you believe yourself ill-used by me, Miss Keighley. It was wrong of me to force my attentions on you, though it was done in your best interests.”

“My best interests!” Helena shook her head impatiently, suddenly aware she was repeating everything the baron said. But his words were so astounding, and so infuriating she couldn’t help it. “In what way was compromising me in my best interests?”

“Our marriage would have been the best thing for you,” asserted Denby. “I would be able to assist you and your brother with your estate, and it made perfect sense, as our lands march together. You were too proud and stiff-necked to see that, and so, when you refused me, I thought to force your hand for your own good. Be sure, I meant to treat you very well.” His eyes raked over her, and she flushed with anger.

“My brother and I have no need of the type of help you doubtless meant to give,” Helena said furiously. “No doubt the earnings from Keighley lands would go to build up the Denby estate. It’s no secret you’ve sadly mismanaged it, and I’ve no wish to see Arthur’s inheritance go into your pockets.”

Denby glared at her, anger in his dark eyes. “You have been listening to inaccurate gossip, Miss Keighley. I have no need of money.”

“Then you must have won at the gambling tables, or cheated someone at business. The whole county knows of your neglect of your home.”

“I’ll not have some snip of a girl lecturing me,” snapped Lord Denby.

“Then you shouldn’t have come here,” Helena retorted.

There was a pause, as Denby visibly reined in his temper. “You are very foolish, Miss Keighley. But I do not want to discuss the past.”

“No, you want to warn me against Malcolm Arlingby,” said Helena scornfully. “As though I would listen to anything you say.”

“He is not to be trusted,” Denby assured her. “Wroxton is a dangerous man, who has spent many years far from England. He does not have your best interests at heart, nor does he understand our country ways.”

Helena tilted her head, and found herself suppressing a chuckle. “You make him sound vastly attractive, though I doubt you intended to.”

She could almost hear Denby grinding his teeth. “I speak out of concern for you, who I once hoped to marry, and for your brother, and Keighley Manor. The man thinks of nothing but his pleasure. Surely you know that becoming entangled with him would be fatal?”

“Entangled?” asked Helena. “In what way could I be entangled with Lord Wroxton? He has been in Kent barely two days.”

“There was a great deal of talk at the assembly last night of his interest in you. It was also said you enjoyed his attention.”

Helena allowed the chuckle to escape. “Lord Wroxton has no interest in me, Lord Denby. Please believe me, and leave me in peace.”

“I heard he was here yesterday, and saw him leave as I rode up,” persisted Denby. “You cannot tell me that there is nothing between you.”

“On the contrary, I can tell you exactly that,” said Helena. “He is a neighbor, and naturally I must deal with him, particularly since he has not seen his lands for over a decade, and they march with ours. But that is all.”

“It would be unwise to seek to enthrall him,” warned the baron. “He has far more experience than you.”

“I have no desire to enthrall Wroxton, and I doubt I could if I wished to. You have an extraordinary imagination.”

“You might hope to catch a greater prize than me,” observed Denby. “To be the Countess of Wroxton would be no mean thing.”

“If I did not know better, I would think you jealous. But, as you do not like me, I must presume you to be insane, especially as it was your compromising behavior that rendered me unmarriageable. I have no expectation whatsoever of becoming the Countess of Wroxton.”

Denby looked at her closely. “A good thing, if it is true. You would be no match for the women he has known. Moreover, I doubt Mrs. Lacey would take kindly to his lordship marrying.”

“Mrs. Lacey?” asked Helena, knowing she should not.

“His mistress,” said Denby shortly. “A very beautiful young matron, and quite up to snuff. Unlike you.”

“You grow insulting.” Helena tamped down the sense of disappointment that rose in her at his words. So Malcolm Arlingby had a worldly and beautiful mistress; that was hardly surprising. The Wicked Earl would have nothing else.

Denby collected himself. “You may not believe that I am thinking of your well being, but I ask you to consider carefully before you involve yourself with Wroxton. Remember, we know very little of him. It’s possible it is he who is in league with the smugglers; their activity has increased since his arrival. If you or your brother need assistance, I would be only too glad to help you.”

“Thank you,” said Helena with awful sarcasm. “But I believe we can dispense with your support.”

“Wroxton may stay here a week or two, but then he will be gone, and we will see little of him here. His life is in London, among the gaming hells and loose women. He has no fondness for the country—or for the people who live there.”

“If you will leave now, I will promise to bear that in mind,” said Helena coldly.

Denby sighed and turned away. “I have tried to warn you, out of friendship and nothing else.”

“I have no need of your warning—or your friendship.”

“You may regret that.” His voice was menacing.

“I would rather regret it later than accept it now. Thomas,” she called out, “bring Lord Denby his horse.”

The footman responded quickly, and the baron mounted, giving Helena one last insinuating look. But as the servant stayed close at hand, he said nothing, and rode away.

Helena watched him go, her fists clenched with fury at Denby’s allusions and his impudence in accosting her. Doing her best to tamp down her anger, she entered the house and made her way to the drawing room, where s
ome missives sat on the mantel. Her mind still half on Lord Denby, she sorted through them aimlessly until Damaris’ handwriting on one caught her eye. She tore it open eagerly.

“Helena, dear,”
she read.

“I find myself bored beyond words, as George has not returned from London, and I continue to be alone. I intend to come to Keighley Manor tonight to dine with you; do not deny me! I know you will alleviate my boredom; I am desperate to hear more of the Wicked Earl! Do not fail me! Expect me at seven o’clock.”

A laugh escaped Helena, and she headed to the kitchen, where she informed the cook that Mrs. Honeysett would be joining her for dinner. She was relieved, knowing that her friend would help keep her thoughts from wandering to either Wroxton or Denby.

Malcolm and Stephen returned to the stables, where their horses awaited them. Turning toward Wroxton, they rode some moments in silence.

“Was your morning with Miss Keighley informative?” asked Stephen finally.

“Very,” replied Malcolm. “She was right about the smugglers using the caves to store brandy. It seems to be a sizable and well-organized operation. I have no idea how we shall root it out at this point.”

“I’m sure I can’t give you any advice on that front, and it sounds tiresome indeed. But all this does allow you to spend time with the lovely Miss Keighley.”

“You appear to have a lively interest in her, at any rate,” said Malcolm coldly.

Stephen glanced at him, surprised. “She is beautiful, of course, and intelligent, and wealthy. But I barely know her, outside of one dance and a few minutes of conversation. It is you who are constantly in her company.”

“Not by my choice,” said Malcolm firmly. “I’d be glad to return to London tomorrow.”

“Then you’d not mind if I pursued my acquaintance with Miss Keighley?” asked Stephen teasingly.

“Not at all. Though I’d not shackle myself to a woman like her, if I were you. You’d not have a moment’s peace.”

“As lovely as she is, I’m not sure I’d want any peace.”

Malcolm grunted. “You will do as you please, of course.”

“I suppose I will.” Stephen glanced at Malcolm from the corner of his eye.

The two men rode on towards Wroxton, Malcolm’s expression grim, while Stephen’s reflected only amusement.

At the appointed time, Damaris swept into Keighley Manor, shedding her pelisse to reveal a dashing gown of heavy russet silk, with a green and gold ribbon cunningly threaded through the neckline and the edges of the sleeves. Tossing her hat on a table, she exclaimed, “My dear, how glad I am to see you,” wrapping Helena, who had entered the hall at the sound of her entrance, in a warm embrace. “With the exception of the assembly, I have been so dull these past days, and had it not been for the Wicked Earl, even that would have been sadly flat. I hope you will share of your far more exciting life.”

Helena laughed. “It has only been two days since the assembly. What can possibly have happened in the meantime?”

Damaris glanced at the butler, and then took Helena’s hand. “You shall tell me all about it in the drawing room, my dear.”

As they moved out of the hall, there was the sound of footsteps, and Arthur appeared, hurrying down the stairs. He was dressed for his visit to Wroxton, and Helena allowed that he looked very fine in his well-tailored coat and breeches. He had clearly given his neckcloth extra attention, and a watch fob and seal could be seen hanging from his waistcoat, but his shirtpoints were moderate. He stopped short at the sight of Damaris and then came forward, bowing politely.

“Mrs. Honeysett, I did not know you would be joining Helena this evening,” he said.

“I was so bored I invited myself.” Damaris surveyed him. “You look very elegant for a night at home, Sir Arthur. Helena is fortunate to have a brother who cares so much about his appearance.”

Arthur tugged at his neckcloth. “I am going to Wroxton for dinner with the earl and Mr. Delaney.”

Damaris smiled at him charmingly. “How lovely. We shall miss you, of course, but that means I will be able to have a lovely gossip with Helena. I would hate to bore you with our chattering.”

“You could never bore me, Mrs. Honeysett,” said Arthur gallantly. “I now regret I have another engagement tonight.

“How prettily said.” Damaris turned to Helena. “You had best beware or your brother will pick up Wroxton’s way with the ladies.”

“I certainly hope not,” rejoined Helena. “If there is any truth to the tales I have heard, Arthur would scarcely have time to do anything but go about conquering the hearts of unsuspecting damsels.”

Damaris placed a hand on Arthur’s arm. “You will have to find out for us tonight if the stories are true about him and the
Comtesse de Choiseu are true. I have heard such things!”

Arthur flushed slightly. “I hardly think I would ask his lordship—,” he began.

Damaris laughed. “I’m sure you will talk of horses and prize fighting and other horrid things. I will miss you, though. You and your sister must visit me in Folkestone soon.”

“I would be honored,” said Arthur. He bowed over her hand and, with a wave at Helena departed. His horse could be heard cantering away a few moments later.

“He is such a sweet boy,” said Damaris. “It will do him good to spend time with Wroxton.”

Helena led her friend into the drawing room. “Why do you say that?”

Damaris sat down and patted the settee next to her invitingly. “Your brother needs to think of things other than Keighley Manor, and the earl needs to learn how to be a good landholder. Think how much they may benefit one another.”

Helena laughed. “I doubt Wroxton will take my brother as a model. Indeed, I have a great fear the opposite will happen.”

“Would that be so bad? There’s always something charming about a rake, is there not?” Damaris gave Helena an inquiring glance.

“You are incorrigible,” sighed Helena. “What is it you want to know?

Damaris gazed at Helena innocently. “Only what has passed between you and the Wicked Earl.”

“Why should I have seen him at all?” asked Helena airily.

Damaris laughed. “I have eyes in my head, don’t I? It was quite clear that you were attracted to each other at the assembly, and then what must you do but quarrel the moment you spoke. I no more think he has stayed away from you than I think pigs can fly.”

“We were not drawn to each other!” protested Helena.

“You may be able to fool Arthur, who is just a boy, or the local gentry, but I know when a man and a woman feel an attraction,” said Damaris frankly. “I’m no dewy-eyed innocent, Helena. So, please, tell me what has happened.”

Helena folded her hands in her lap. “Very little.”

“You must let me be the judge of that. Go on.”

“You are far too inquisitive.”

When Damaris did not reply, but only put her chin in her hand and stared at Helena avidly, wringing a reluctant chuckle from her.

“Very well,” she said. “Nothing of note has happened. Lord Wroxton came to Keighley Manor two days ago and I showed him the grounds. We spoke of the need to stop the smugglers, and agreed to visit the beach on Wroxton land where I suspect the free traders have landed. Today we rode there, and found my suspicions were true.”

“And?” prompted Damaris.

“That is all,” responded Helena primly.

“It seems you have spent a great deal of time with Lord Wroxton,” ventured Damaris.

“How else shall we stop the smugglers?”

“Is that really all there is to it?”

“That is indeed all. What other reason would I have to spend time with Lord Wroxton?”

“Oh my dear, you are so foolish.” Damaris shook her head. “The first time he saw you, he kissed you, did he not?”

Helena flushed a bit, but nodded.

“You kissed him back, I suppose?”

“Damaris! As though I would do such a thing!”

“So you pushed him away? You found it unpleasant?”

Helena hesitated. “No,” she finally admitted. “At least, I did not push him away, but I was so shocked I didn’t know what to do.”

“Believe me, if a kiss is unpleasant, the impulse to push a man away is irresistible,” said Damaris.

“I—I know that.” Helena did not meet her friend’s eyes.

Damaris gave her a sharp look. “Sometime, my dear, you will have to tell me what happened that night in London with Lord Denby.”

Helena looked away. “It no longer matters.”

“On the contrary, it matters a great deal,” said Damaris. “Whatever happened changed your life. However, none of it was Wroxton’s fault.”

“I know that as well,” said Helena crossly.

“So, if you wish to kiss him, perhaps you should,” proposed Damaris.

“What?” squeaked Helena.

“As I understand it, your reputation was ruined by Lord Denby, was it not?” asked Damaris. When Helena nodded reluctantly, she continued. “So you are painted as unmarriageable. What then is to stop you from kissing the very handsome and interesting earl?”

Helena gaped at her. “Why would I want to?”

Damaris tilted her head slightly and surveyed Helena. “Because he is quite fascinating and very attractive. Do you not think so?”

“He is irresponsible and glib,” Helena answered sternly.

“As I said—fascinating.” Damaris smiled at her encouragingly. “Do not deny yourself this, Helena. You might not find someone as interesting again. Unless you prefer Lord Denby?”

Helena dropped her eyes and shuddered slightly. “I do not. But that doesn’t mean I want Lord Wroxton.”

“You need not marry Wroxton,” said Damaris. “After all, you didn’t marry Denby.”

Helena sighed. “They are two very different things.”

Damaris laughed. “Oh, very much so. I’ve no doubt there are some women who find Denby’s type attractive, but I am not one of them. The Wicked Earl, on the other hand—” she broke off and raised her eyebrows, a twinkle in her eye.

“Perhaps you should pursue him, then,” said Helena, a touch of annoyance creeping into her voice.

“If I were not passionately in love with my George—and if the earl had shown the slightest interest in me—I might agree with you. But, as it is, I have no desire to ensnare his lordship, and it is your home he has visited twice in two days.” Damaris took Helena’s hand in hers and patted it. “Tell me, dear, what happened in London between you and Lord Denby?”

Helena gave a tiny shake of her head. “It is so ridiculous I can’t believe I was taken in by him. He had been courting me, I suppose, as he had shown interest in me before I came out and would pay me extravagant compliments whenever he encountered me. But I made it clear I did not care for him, and Papa despised him. So, I thought nothing of it. In London he was most solicitous, though I paid him little attention, and he did not approach Papa to ask to pay his addresses to me.”

“No doubt he knew he had no chance with you,” said Damaris.

“I certainly did not encourage him.” Helena looked down at her hands. “One evening at Montagu House, I grew weary of the noise and crowd, and sought some quiet. Lord Denby was there, and must have been watching me, for while I was in an anteroom, simply trying to have a moment of quiet, he approached me. He was very civil; indeed, his conversation was unexceptionable and I thought he would leave in a moment. But then, I heard voices approaching and he leaped forward and grabbed me, holding me close and kissing me—if you can call that a kiss!”

“It does not compare to Wroxton’s?” asked Damaris.

Helena turned bright red. “That was not what I meant. I was so surprised that I was stunned for a moment, and there was no tenderness to it; he simply mashed his mouth to mine and pawed at my clothing!” She gave a little shudder at the memory.

“It sounds very unpleasant—and far less fun than kissing Wroxton might be.”

“It was extremely unpleasant. I do not compare him to Wroxton, of course.”

“Of course,” said Damaris.

“Then,” continued Helena, “two gentlemen and a lady walked into the room and saw us. They were friends of his, I knew, and the lady was a known gossip. Lord Denby stepped back from me before I could even struggle, and smiled at me odiously. He told his friends we were to be wed, and I contradicted him. Before the night was out all of London knew.”

“Did he let the matter drop?” asked Damaris.

“No—he came to our townhouse the next day and asked to see me, but I refused. Papa did not blame me, but he was furious. He was not well before that, and was only worse afterward.”

“So Denby meant to compromise you and force you into marriage.”

“So it seems,” said Helena. “But why? Our land marches with his, but I will not inherit it, so it would be of no benefit to him.”

“Perhaps he loves you,” ventured Damaris.

“Nonsense,” said Helena. “If he loved me, he would have spoken to Papa and courted me properly. He would also have respected my refusal of his offer. Furthermore, you only have to be in his company a few minutes to know he loves no one but himself.”